My eyes fly open as I jerk upright, panting desperately. I’m in my own bed—well, couch, actually, but it’s where I always sleep. My blankets and pillows are damp, I assume from the sweat dripping down my neck.
As images flash through my mind, I rip at my chest, searching for what I know must be a gaping hole. I can feel it, the talon of that terrible beast carving through me. An echo of the searing pain. But my shirt is intact, as is the skin beneath.
I pull the collar down, and sure enough, there is a black mark just beneath the soft spot of my collarbone. A mix of a groan and whimper escapes my lips as I prod the smooth skin. The searing burn of magic is still there, creeping through my muscles.
How had it healed like that? So entirely. So quickly.
Or had it been quick? I don’t remember getting home. I don’t remember going to sleep. How long have I been out? How long had I remained unconscious in that dark cave on the outskirts of his pathetic town?
What did that monster do to me? And how in the world did I make it back home, let alone survive? Andrew is going to be pissed I survived.
My lips curl into a smile at that thought.
My head throbs terribly, but as I force myself to my wobbly feet, I feel a tad better. The magic, foreign and heavy, flows through my body, but it almost seems to be strengthening me. It doesn’t feel good, but I don’t suppose it’s actively killing me, which is plus.
Power requires pain. The monster’s voice echoes through my mind as if he were still here. I don’t remember those words being said in the cave, so not a memory. I don’t even want to think about the other possibilities.
I hold my breath for nearly a full minute, waiting. But no more messages come through my clearly disheveled mind. I should be dead. But I’m not.
I let out the breath and take in another.
I do remember the beast’s offer…
Andrew had said the monster requires a sacrifice to grant its power. So why would he offer that power to the sacrifice?
I’ve promised myself so many times before that I’d no longer feel powerless. I’ve just never had the means to fulfill that promise.
The flash of a memory presses itself to the surface of my consciousness, and I wince. I watched my father die powerless. I watched as wicked men tore him apart for their own gain in front of the whole town.
They called him a murderer. It didn’t matter that it was untrue. The hoard wanted to see him suffer, and so the men in power obliged.
That’s what happens when there is no justice in the world. When there are no longer any courts or judges. When power is the only currency. The people take matters into their own hands. Right or wrong.
Well, according to the order they created—power is currency. Truth and goodness and justice, they don’t matter anymore. They don’t exist anymore.
One day, I’ll make them pay for killing the wrong man.
I look down at my hands, front and back. There is the hint of a tingle—or is that just my imagination?
I slip on my best leather boots, the ones with the soles only just starting to separate from the rest, old jeans, and a red T-shirt. My father once told me red was the color of power. Of purpose. And that’s what I want to channel today.
I’ll take back what was taken from him. And I’ll make sure nothing is ever taken from me again.
With a long deep breath, I pull open the front door, leaving the snores of my uncle, still sleeping away a bottle of vodka, behind. The sunlight shines through the house and bombards me, burning. I wince and toss up my hands in front of my eyes. “What the hell,” I mutter. “Ow.” I must have been asleep longer than I thought for the sun to feel like such an assault.
I stare down at my rotting boots as I stumble forward because I can’t bear to look up any higher or risk searing pain.
I hate looking defeated. I hate looking weak. But what’s a guy to do when looking into the daylight feels like daggers carving into his brain?
Little white flakes begin a gentle descent from the sky. One lands on my boots, and I stop. Even after all this time, my mind still thinks of snow when I first see the ash fall.
Of course, it does still snow in these parts, but it’s early fall and mildly warm. We won’t see a flake of actual snow for months now. No, this time of year there is no question—this is ash from some nearby structure burning to the ground.
Before the Sorcery War, this town was tiny, tucked in between several large mountains. The roads were winding and small, and our population only held a few thousand. But as the wars began, the cities around us fell. One by one. We knew, generally, because of the influx of travelers that would come through, tell their horror stories, and move on or die. Well, most of them. A handful of them stayed.
The chattering of the town square grows as I walk closer, and my anxiety rises. My body still feels heavy as lead but somehow also strong. My head throbs more and more with the new noise. I stop at the corner, waiting in the shadows, trying to decide what I’ll do. I can’t get my daily rations without entering the town square. My uncle has eaten everything we’d saved. So, my choice is to risk seeing the council and their sons or go hungry.
I block what light I can with my hand and attempt to force my body forward. Then, I see her and pause.
Julie. Her brown hair waves as she walks, her smile big and bright. I stop, frozen in place. I don’t have the strength to talk to her today. What will I say when she asks me about the cave? How could I possibly explain…
My determination is sucked dry in an instant, and I slink behind Mr. Collin’s makeshift tent selling blankets and find a place between two buildings to sit in the shadows once again.
It probably makes me a creep to sit and watch, but it’s all I can do right now. I haven’t given up, I tell myself. I’ll still join the line for food rations. I’ll… just wait a little while.
Is she what you truly desire?
I shiver at the sound of that voice. Stop it, I think and press my eyes closed. No, he can’t be in my head. He can’t…
I’m going crazy, I decide. That magic of the caves broke my mind, and it’s making me hear things that aren’t really there.
Sadly, that’s the better of the two possibilities.